Mad Tango
by Primi-tan
Summary: Never has she met anyone in her madness ridden state that makes her black blood boil like he does. Kidd/Female!Chrona, warnings for blood and questionable content.


**A/N:** So I woke up one morning and wanted to write stuff about two people beating each other to death. What better than an OTP? Bonus makeouts included.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Soul Eater. The series rightfully belongs to Atsushi Okubo.

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She meets him for the final time somewhere near the shores of the Atlantic. She doesn't know where precisely, because nothing is recognizable anymore.

The earth is scarred and churned and there are still stray human souls floating above river upon river of black blood that run across the world like her own blood vessels. Chrona walks alone on this planet, devouring what is left and leaving a trail of inky death in her wake. There were only minor details that attempted to stop her, like the girl with bunny ears and a boy with hair white as snow. But none of them lasted long, at all, nor had their friends.

And so she moved on.

It's not so much an accident that she found the little Shinigami boy, as it was that he had been seeking her out, but for what purpose, she cannot be sure.

The first thing he does upon seeing her, perched on an uprooted cliff and a striking figure of darkness against the sky blotched red, is attack. She's barely able to lift her sword in time to block a powerful kick attack that makes her stumble back. She then counters.

He leaps away lands on the beach that stinks like an orca that had been brutally mauled and left to rot under the hot sun, and she can see him clearly now. Her head tilts to the side curiously, because she while she can recall seeing someone like him before, she knows he isn't supposed to look like this.

There are black lines along his mouth, like they'd been stitched solid shut, but his eyes gleam with the madness of the Kishin she had long since absorbed, in the aftermath of a battle she had missed. Perhaps it is her own madness that makes him this way and causes him to be dressed in strange, fancy clothing. She doesn't know, and why should she care?

He just looks different, is all.

"Garbage..." Is what he first says to her, which confuses her. "You disgusting, vile creature!"

Now that was rather hurtful.

"How dare you destroy this world? This world that I have inherited and that I will perfect?"

"Oh shut up you punkass!" Comes Ragnarok's voice from behind her. He doesn't even get a chance to respond before the Shinigami boy is moving again towards her.

Chrona raises her sword once again, swiping at him. He manages to slip away from her blow like a snake and appear somewhere behind her, ramming her across the head. It doesn't hurt, but it's enough to knock her off balance. He tries again to at least puncture the armor that is her skin, but to no avail.

And he makes a strange noise when her sword digs into his side and she twists it brutally. She doesn't want to have to deal with him, not when she has more souls to find for her hungry weapon.

He leaps away, landing some distance on the somehow smooth beach, and she watches as his wounds begin to stitch themselves shut swiftly.

All Chrona gets is an evil, angry smile from his mouth before he's moving again.

This time, pain explodes behind her eyes as his fist makes contact with her jaw, sending her flying, and he doesn't stop there. The Shinigami boy follows up with multiple kicks, each landing on her body solidly and feeling like she's being pelted with heavy rocks.

A cloud of sand kicks up upon her impact, and a muted thud echoes up her spine, but then there's gentle, tender hands on her throat and her eyes flash open.

Even with that sweet smile spreading across his face, it frightens her, because his eyes shine with triumpth and satisfiaction. Her hands are trapped under his knees and he straddles her body.

And then his fingers close around her trachea and then she suddenly can't breathe.

"There's no room for abominations like you." He leans down to murmur in her ear, even as she struggles to break free and breathe in, but all he does is increase the pressure painfully. "I will make this world perfect; you're simply in the way."

Between the yelling of her weapon through her resonance to fucking move or else they'll both die and the burning of her lungs from it's slowly depleting oxygen, images flicker behind her eyes.

He was there, long ago. He hurt her, shot her with bullets (his weapons must be dead, why else would he be fighting alone?), and he called her the same names as he is doing now. And it didn't stop there, no, indeed he didn't. She remembers being followed down candle lined hallways, and frightened of his golden eyes because they always looked at her with hate.

Hate, hate, hate, anger, 'Such a vile creature', 'You disgust me!'.

And then fire roars to life in her chest, she wrestles her hands free from under his knees, and spikes of the darkest black shoot from her body, striking him in various places.

"Get away..." She murmurs in warning, driving the spikes deeper into his body. His face contorts with pain tempered with fury, and he tries to rip himself free of her blood. But she rises and begins to walk towards him, the flaming hot anger in her chest growing with each step she takes towards him.

She has never known a fire like this, at least, not in a long time. It had burned deep within her (now it consumes her) when she killed her mother, pummeled her into nothing but goopy arrows of red blood.

Chrona wants to do that to him, too.

She wants to see him squirm in pain, she wants to see him burn in the hottest fires of a volcano, she wants him to bleed out in the ocean, she wants to see him skewed upon her sword and ripped to bloody pieces.

She wants him dead.

"I hate you..." She murmurs, almost automatically. "You were...always hurting me. You were always...always, there."

He doesn't seem tempered as she approaches, and manages to break free of her trap of blood, backing up several yards. Ragnarok shouts encouragements to make him suffer and she is more than willing to comply.

He moves first, like the strike of a lightning storm, but then she moves too and they clash, their souls sending a shockwave of power to break the nearest cliff apart. Fury and shame and pain pushes her to ensure his fall. He wants her dead and she wants him to suffer. The air explodes with screams and black power that tears apart the beach but she is strong here, not like the first time.

They are on equal grounds somehow.

She is not as fast as he is, but try as he might he can't break through her pale skin, and when the raining blows end, he's on the other end of the beach with split and bleeding knuckles, dripping warm, rusty red blood onto the violent sands beneath their feet.

She grins and giggles, because satisfaction churns through her and she wants to see him in pain, more pain, more red blood split on the sunset lit, battle-scarred sand.

He seems more than determined to end her existance, and once again, races across the back towards her with all the grace of a pouncing predator. She's ready this time, and when he's about to move in to punch or kick, she swings her sword.

Blood soars in a perfect ark as she slices one of his arms off, sending it falling uselessly to the ground, but he doesn't stop moving, doesn't even scream or flinch away. He simply knocks her onto her back and blood drips onto her face, sticky and bright crimson as he pins her there in the sand.

The mad Shinigami boy's grinning, all teeth and madness and she doesn't try to stop him when he leans down to crush his mouth against hers, like some clumsy virgin on prom night who doesn't know what the hell he's doing. She doesn't know why he does it, only that he does, and she hates him even more because she likes it. Chrona bites his lip hard and tastes blood and she wants to see him bleeding from his mouth. And as she laps at it his teeth sink into her tongue painfully.

Her nails start to dig into his arm, and they started tearing through the black fabric to rake across his skin, leaving bright welts. She hears him growl, and abruptly, he breaks away. She tastes ink on her tongue with rusty red and from his mouth drips blood.

He curses at her when he proclaims that her marks aren't evenly shaped, and she steps forward to begin their dance again. He darts for the limb that lays forgotten in the sand. She lets him, playing with him like a cat would it's prey, and when he finishes reattaching it, she sends another wave of screams at him.

The Shinigami boy ducks and weaves through her barrage of dark power, kicking up a cloud of sand. And when the faintest sound of his feet touching the unstable ground beneath them reaches her, she takes the moment to strike.

Sh revels in the sickening, so very satisfying sound of metal slicing through his pale flesh, the force of her momentum sending them both flying in one direction once more.

They collide with a rock and her sword buries itself into the stone to the hilt, trapping him there and he lays there like a slab of fresh meat, trying to struggle but crying out when all he does is tear the wound further.

Her pale lavender eyes meet his yellow ones, and she can see her own madness reflected in his. His face is contorted in an angry scowl and he tries to rip the blade away, but their resonance clashes and his hands burn with two very different souls clashing together. She grins at his predicament.

She understands now, why Mother wanted her to kill things. It feels good, especially if you hate the world so much.

Chrona could just leave him here, wait for bloodloss to render him immobile and leave him pale and cold and so very, very dead. But that would be boring. So, very, boring.

A snigger escapes her throat as she mounts him, and in her madness a very predatory grin crosses her face. She is long lost to the insanity, why not ride the waves of pleasure and the sheer and utter freedom that comes with it?

With the same gentleness he had exibited earlier, she strokes his neck with calloused fingertips as he glares unflinchingly, seeing that she has him right where she wants him. Maybe because it's her mother whispering silly things in her ear, telling her that she can do what she wants to him and he probably wants it done to him as well. The madness flowing through her very soul wants her to make him beg, plead for mercy, see him in pain and then in death.

Why not? They are all mad here.

And so she kisses him with a mouth that is all tongue and their teeth clash like a box of spilling knives, biting and trying to outdo the other and make them bleed more. Red oozes from his lips and black from hers, and it mixes like a strange spiral on the stone beneath them. He is angry, angry and hateful like she is and the kissing and biting is driven by nothing but simple fury.

His hips buck upwards, trying to pleasure or trying to hurt, and she can feel his throat convulse with pain almost immediately, but all she does is grind back down into him nice and hard, ripping his shirt from where the sword had broken through to get at his bare skin. Chrona rakes her nails down his chest, drawing tiny beads of blood. Likewise, she feels his blistered hands grab at her less-than-stellar chest to pinch and twist and try to gain some semblance of dominance.

All it does is make her snicker as tingles spread through her body and blend with the hypnotic, crashing waves of insanity that echo in her ears. As her blood beings to boil, Ragnarok calms and settles down to watch the show with soundless laughter as they begin to tear away at the other's clothes.

She hates him so much, and she is going to drown away his red blood in her black until there is nothing left on this godforsaken rock.

XXXXXX

**A/N:** Oh, crippling weakness for hatesex, you win again!


End file.
